The New rule

The first day of senior year arrived with a bitter wind and the heavy silence of unwanted attention.

Lydia Hart stepped through the grand iron gates of St. Verona’s Academy, her worn shoes quiet on the marble walkway. Compared to the others—polished, glossy, and dressed in the latest designer uniforms—she was invisible. Or at least, she had been.

Until today.

“Look who’s back,” someone whispered.

Lydia’s gaze followed theirs—then froze.

A black Maserati pulled up, the engine's growl commanding silence. From it emerged a tall figure in a custom-tailored uniform, black blazer unbuttoned like he didn’t care about rules. His golden hair was slicked back, face sculpted like a Roman god, with piercing icy-blue eyes that scanned the courtyard like he owned it.

Jake Romano.

Her heart clenched.

He hadn’t been seen at school in almost two years. Whispers claimed he'd been in Sicily, learning how to run his family's empire—an empire built on blood, secrets, and money so old it could choke you.

Girls gasped as he passed. Boys stepped aside. Even teachers went stiff with forced smiles.

Jake didn’t acknowledge any of them. Not until his gaze landed on her.

Lydia’s breath caught.

For one terrifying second, their eyes locked. His were cold, unreadable—until something flickered in them. Interest. Curiosity. And something darker.

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure her out.

She turned away quickly and walked toward the main building, her fingers clutching the strap of her old backpack.

Don't look back, Lydia. Don’t give him attention. That’s how girls disappear into his world.

---

Jake watched her walk away.

That girl... she wasn’t here last time. He would’ve remembered someone like her—quiet, low profile, dressed like she didn’t belong in a place like this. But there was something captivating about how she held herself. Proud, despite the obvious contrast between her and the elite.

He smirked. A challenge.

“She’s the driver’s daughter,” Christy Simmons said beside him, slipping her arm through his. “Lydia Hart. Scholarship case. Totally below your level.”

Jake didn’t answer.

He had never cared for what was "his level." He took what he wanted. And right now, he wanted to know who the hell Lydia Hart was—and why just one glance from her made him forget every other name in this school.

---

Lydia’s first class was Literature. She slid into the back seat, praying no one would notice her.

Of course, someone did.

A boy named Alex Monroe gave her a warm smile and passed her a pencil she’d dropped. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

He seemed different. Calm. Kind. His uniform was neat but simple, his demeanor lacking the arrogance the others wore like cologne.

For a moment, she relaxed.

Until the door opened.

Jake walked in, and every student sat up straighter. The teacher stammered, mid-sentence.

Jake didn’t take a seat in the front. He walked to the back row. To where she sat.

And sat beside her.

She stared at the page in front of her, heart thundering.

“Lydia,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

She didn’t answer.

He leaned closer. “I don’t like being ignored.”

His words weren’t loud. But they were enough to make her skin prickle.

Alex looked back, eyes narrowing slightly.

And Jake smiled, the kind of smile that promised destruction.

The rules of the school had changed the moment Jake Romano returned.

And Lydia had just become the center of his obsession.

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